


Alexandra Sherlock's Lover (Female Version)

by KitOfYaoi (orphan_account)



Series: Sherlock's Lover [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Creepy Stalker, Episode: s01e03 The Great Game, Episode: s02e01 A Scandal in Belgravia, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Character Death, Possessive Behavior, Stalker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/KitOfYaoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexandra, has know Sherlock for what seem all her life. With three doctorate degrees, she is just has smart has Sherlock. She is Sherlock's first in everything what is going to happen, when she comes back, before the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet Alexandra

He did not know I was coming back, not even his brother knew. I had gotten my third degree; in linguistics. My first two were in History and Sociology. I had left for France to get my masters and doctorate degrees in linguistics. All three are now in the highest degrees I can get at the moment, all doctorates. I stayed in France for three years, only coming back for breaks. I knock on the door, and stand back. The person that opens it is not Mrs. H. but a small male. “Are you here for Sherlock?”

 

“Just send them away,” I hear Sherlock say. I smirk and walk past the small man, missing the noisy steps. I look in to see the living room to see Sherlock, looking out the window and facing away from me. I walk very quietly and quickly to Sherlock’s room. “Sherlock where did she go?” I hear the small man say.

 

“What are you talking about, John.” Oh, that is the small man’s name; John. I quickly lay my bag on Sherlock’s desk chair, lie down on Sherlock’s bed, and close my eyes. My bags should be arriving at his big brothers house very soon. “She wha…” Sherlock’s phone bings.

 

“Lex.” He says breathlessly. He comes running, and I snuggle more into his blanket and pillow. The door slams open, “Alexandra.” He jumps on me.

 

“Hello, love.” I kiss him and he kisses back. My arms wrap around his neck and he puts his arms around my waist. Sherlock flips us so that he is under me, and I’m resting on top of him. I’m shorter than him, my head when we are standing comes to his heart, so when we are lying down I have to stretch up a bit too kiss him. I pull back, and comfortably rest my head on his heart. His hand rests on my back, rubbing it. We release a sigh of relief to be back together.

 

“Sherlock what is going on?” I look over at John. Sherlock is playing with my curly black hair that stops just under my shoulders.

 

“Hey. I’m Alexandra Shadelight, Sherlock’s fiancée.” John does nothing but stare at us.

 

I turn my head to look at Sherlock, resting my chin on his chest. “I think I broke your friend,” I said to him, just staring at his face; I have missed him greatly.

 

“I believe you have,” he said back, happily.

Then there was this rush of steps coming up the stairs and Mycroft appeared in the doorway. He closes Sherlock’s door behind him.

 

“Alex, you’re finally back,” Mycroft says in relief, moving my bag onto the floor and sitting in the chair. “Now you can deal with him, he was just about to get very bored. I have nothing for him to do right now.”

 

“Oh really?” I ask Sherlock, fixing an amused eye on him.

 

“Yes, you have no idea how bored I have gotten. You are the most interesting thing to happen today, and the last two months.”

 

“Hey!” John said finally breaking out of his shock.  “How am I just now learning about her?!”

 

“Alex is a childhood friend of Sherlock’s… that somehow stayed his friend.” Mycroft said. Sherlock’s arm tightens around me, holding me closer, and I snugged more into him in order to comfort him. “She was the only one that could keep up with him; that was close to his age.”

 

I thought about our past.  I met Sherlock when we were both in a private school. We met in 7th grade, both the youngest in our class, I was nine and he was ten. If one of us skipped a grade the other one followed. We graduated at twelve and thirteen. Then we went to university, where we both worked for our first doctorate degrees. We were each other’s first in everything (we have not told anyone that we are no longer virgins, we wanted to keep that to ourselves, so we keep up the act of still being innocent). When we got our first doctorates at sixteen and seventeen was when we finally told everyone we were dating. Now we are twenty-two and twenty-three, I have three doctorates, Sherlock has four degrees, we are engaged, and we are still successfully fooling everyone into thinking we are virgins.

 

Then someone’s phone goes off; John gives his phone to Sherlock. “Looks like someone gave a box to the police with my name on it,” my fiancée grumbles . I get up from Sherlock, and stand next to Mycroft. Sherlock pouts but then his mask slides back on. 


	2. Picture

 

This is Alexandra Shadelight 

 


	3. She's WHAT

 

Sherlock was off saving someone from being blown up by a bomb. He has less interest in it then he would usually have since I’m now back in London. I get texts throughout the case, but I know I will hear the rest and whole of the story in person.

 

Mycroft and I talk over tea about everything we’ve missed in the last three years. Mycroft says he has a very important assignment that Sherlock should be working on: there is a missing flash drive with a very important code on it. Mycroft catches me up on the last three months of Sherlock meeting John, the cases, and two months of trying to keep Sherlock un-bored, from both the lack of interesting cases, and the lack of me.  Sherlock missing me sounded very cute. Mycroft is finding me a flat nearby to Sherlock; not really close, but mostly safe. I was going to be three or four blocks away. I could not move in for a while, which is fine, Sherlock would love to have me around, and so would Mrs. H.

 

Mycroft sends me off in his car back to 221B. On the way I get a text about a gay man flirting with Sherlock. I told him to keep the phone number, we could play with the poor guy. My memories flash back to Christmas; my gift was lovely, we made love, and he asked me to marry him. I look at the ring on my finger that fits perfectly. I never take it off.

 

When I get out of the car Sherlock swings the door open, and I meet him in a hug and a kiss. Sherlock pushes me up the stairs, telling me about the case, the shoes, and his first case-the reason he became a consulting detective-from before I meet him. I keep up as he tells me how everything is connected.

 

He sits me down in his chair, starts to make tea, and cleans up the kitchen a bit. It really has been a while since I have been back, the kitchen is trashed. He brings the tea over and sits across from me, then brings up John’s blog. “You are in someone’s blog,” I say, “oh dear.”

 

“Yeah, I’m in some ones blog, and now the whole of London’s police force knows that I do not really care for the solar system.”  Sherlock moves me over the couch, and I sit down and arrange myself for Sherlock to lay his head in my lap. 

 

“Yes, it is time for you to rest your head now.” I put my cup down and start to pet his head. “Your computer needs to rest for bit, no more going 100’s of miles a second.” Sherlock lets out a massive breath, and his body relaxes. I feel his head get heavier. I keep up the petting, and his mind is relaxing, his eyes closing.

 

I hear foots steps coming up the stairs and look up to see John and another male. “So this is the lady John was talking about,” the man says, either addressing me or the room at large.

 

I look down at Sherlock, and stop petting his hair; his eyes open to look into my blue eyes. “Lestrade, Alexandra. Lex, Detective Inspector Lestrade.” His eyes close again and I feel him relax once more. I go back to petting his head.

 

“Hey I’m Sherlock’s fiancée,” I say looking back up at Lestrade.

 

“I heard but I did not believe it till I saw you,” he said, looking at us and trying to let it all soak in. Sherlock has someone he loves and cares for. I smirk to myself, and rub Sherlock’s ear. He turns to my stomach, and I go back to softly petting his hair.

 

A phone goes off, and a pink phone is handed to Sherlock, who is grudgingly pulled back to the real world. Sherlock takes it and stays facing my stomach. “We have another case.” Sherlock says sadly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am testing this story out, before posting it on fanfiction 
> 
> there is going to be a long break well I work on writing chapters 7 to 10
> 
> leave notes and comments, and enjoy this story before it is even on Fanfiction


	4. Showing Off

 

Sherlock wanted me to go with him and John, probably just to save time spent texting me, so I went with them. When I see the body of a TV person, the one who liked to make people dress better, I look at the forehead; if you look close enough it gives away the real cause of death. The real mystery was the identity of the killer. Sherlock sent John off to hunt down the woman’s family history.

 

He turned to me, picks up my hand, and together we return to 221B where Sherlock puts up a map of all of Europe. He starts to put pins where the texts have been coming from. I was looking at it with him and Lestrade, who was here for a while, when a thought occurs to me.  “Sherlock, what if the person is just flying to all these places for work, or business reasons?”

 

“Your right, business.” I pull out the laptop, whichever one was closer to me, to look at the places he pinned on the map and see what has happened in those locations in the last three days. Sherlock leaves when he gets a call from John; it was getting down to the wire on time. Since I still had the laptop, I stay behind and wait for a text containing information Sherlock wanted me to post on John’s blog. Sherlock sent it, the text, and I posted. But apparently all did not go according to plan.

 

When they got back Sherlock comes over and clings to me. “She got killed. She was trying to tell us about his voice and he killed her.”

 

I help him over to his chair, he rests his head on my arm, and I sit on the arm rubbing his arm and head. “She was old, and blind. We will never know what was going on in her head, but just that maybe she was hoping for death.” He just rubbed his head in my arm. “Oh Sherlock,” I say. There was his grin, his ‘I’m happy to be here’ grin.

 

The pink phone went off and Sherlock picks it up; it was a picture of the shore. He texts Lestrade to send him a message asking if any bodies have appeared on that particular shore. After that I gently pull Sherlock out of his chair, and guide him into his bedroom. I shut the door, push down on to the bed. He gets the hint, takes off his jacket, and hands it to me; I put it up and crawl into the bed with him. “Take a nap Sherlock.” He pouts just a little but then pulls me to him. Once he was starting to doze off, once I knew he was asleep, I pull out his phone and see the number from the gay man. Apparently his name is Jim Moriarty, and I add the number to both Sherlock’s phone and my phone. I then set an alarm on my phone and put both phones on the bed side table. Sherlock looks adorable and so I snuggle more into him, promptly falling asleep.

 

When my alarms go off, I have to reach over Sherlock (who is fighting to stay asleep) to get the cursed thing and turn it off. I hit the button and snuggle more into Sherlock. I know that when am not with Sherlock he will do anything not to sleep, to stay away from the nightmares’ but when am here he loves it. He will find any reason to just sleep with me. I love it also. After thirty minutes of just laying there, Sherlock’s phone goes off. I grab it and answer: “Alex.”

 

“Sherlock lets you answers his phone,” Lestrade says, then pauses (my guess is letting yet another new aspect of Sherlock sink in- it amuses me) before continuing, “Sherlock wanted to know about bodies washing up on shores.” He gives me the info, then I hang up and start to kiss Sherlock awake.

 

“Your case is here,” I softly say to him, then kiss him once more. He gets up and changes, with me following shortly after. We leave his room, practically running into John who is standing in the kitchen looking shocked.

 

“He…He… Sherlock slept on a case.”  John shakes his system awake.

 

“Sherlock,” I say, encouraging Sherlock to help his friend as I start moving around and making tea. I look in the fridge for milk, not surprised to see the head, and then look at Sherlock who looks embarrassed.

 

“John, I really like sleeping; Alex, I will buy another fridge for my experiments,” he says first to John and then to me.

 

John just stands there, stammering, “So. I ask, we don’t get a new fridge. Alex just looks at you, and you roll over…”

 

I put the teas in to-go cups, giving one to John, the other to Sherlock. I stand in front of Sherlock, looking in his eyes. “I would miss it too much, just like I did for the last three years.” Sherlock kisses me.  After we pull back Sherlock leads us down to the waiting taxi.

 

I get in the taxi with the boys, sitting in front of Sherlock who is drinking his tea and playing with my free hand.  When we get there I look at the body with Sherlock, moving when he was moving. John was tested on what he noticed while I spent time thinking about the monster that could have done this, and what it might look like.

 

When we get back in the taxi, I sip my tea and listen to Sherlock and John talk. When we get to the boy’s next destination I choose to stay in the taxi, and look up info on a painting Sherlock seems interested in and apparently believes is tied to this case. Funny thing, the painting had a lot to do with stars. While Sherlock hates everything to do with the solar system, sees it as unnecessary information not worth bothering remembering, I don’t mind it. I store information in my mind, same as the Holmes brothers do, but I do it a bit differently. A few things I am beginning to forget is my life before Sherlock Holmes, and when my parents were killed in an ocean storm.

 

  _I was in college by this time working on my second degree. I got the call and froze, completely in shock. Sherlock and Mycroft came to get me, they were called before so they could be there when I was told, and then deal with the school. I was able to end the semester since the fault was not mine. I was glued to Sherlock throughout everything, and Mycroft helped to handle and arrange everything; I do not know how could have done anything without Mycroft’s help. The Holmes parents from then on were my parents, citing the fact that I was already going to be their daughter-in-law anyway._

 

My musings are interrupted by Sherlock and John, who return, hash out their newly found information, and then split up again. I stay with Sherlock as he goes to get a security guard uniform and then proceeds to use that uniform to break into the art museum. I stay outside the museum, waiting for him.

 

When he comes out he puts the silly uniform hat on top of my head, and drags me to a taxi, talking about how the painting is undoubtedly a fake. He just does not know how yet. I have not looked at it yet, so I couldn’t really help him much. I started to rub his hand, trying to relax him a bit.

 

“Sherlock, what do you know about John’s case so far,” I ask, taking his mind off the painting for a bit. It will help him to look at it again with a fresh mind. John had seemingly gone off on his own so far on Mycroft’s quest, and I was curious to know how it was going.  He starts to talk about how because there was no blood where the body was found at the crime scene, the body would have had to be moved. On the train, but from where? It would have had to be near a house, like the wife’s brother house that just happened to be on the same route.

 

Later, while Sherlock and John were hunting the Golem (the nasty monster that killed the security officer), I was at the painting’s open house, making sure to stop anyone from buying it. When Sherlock finally arrived the police officers came in with him and cleared everyone out. I finally got a look at the painting, and my eyed got drawn to the stars; something did not seem right about them. I thought about the time of the painting and what I knew about astrological history in that era. There was nothing I could recall about the time the paining was said to be placed in, but something did happen about a hundred years later. That was it; that was why it was a fake.

 

The phone rang. I waited as long as I could, until a countdown started, then pointed to the star in question on the painting. Sherlock figured it out from there. The sound of the little boy on the other end of the phone doing the countdown was heart breaking to me. Poor boy, it made me think about what if it was Sherlock, when he was little. I stop my train of thoughts, and look at Sherlock, and he looks right back; I wonder if he had the same thoughts. 

 

“How did you do that? Sherlock would never let me do that,” John asks, very seriously.

 

“I never really tell him anything, I just give him a very small hint. That leads him to the rest of the puzzle.  He really likes solving the puzzle.” Sherlock picks up my hand and kisses it.

 

“She just knows what to pick, leaving the rest of the puzzle for me to figure out. The little things, something very tiny, something my computer of a brain just might miss. Something I would forget.  If I forget it, Lex remembers it for me.” Sherlock smirks at me.

 

“He mostly just likes to show off,” He was looking for my attention, and to prove that he was paying attention to me. I love that he can do everything by himself, if he sets his mind to it my genius of a fiancée can figure anything out, but he likes to have my help. Just little things; he doesn’t question my intelligence, but he knows I don’t like to get in the way of his. My biggest job, one that I take very seriously, is helping him with resting or refreshing his mind. We’ve always had a good balance that way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should all be thanking my beta for this chapter, if not for her, you would not be getting this chapter for another week
> 
> in your comments leave not only a comment,  
> but a Thank You note to my Beta


	5. Papers and Terms

 

Sherlock solved his missiles problems while I stayed behind at 221B making dinner. When the boys come back Sherlock sits in his chair, and John makes his way over to the desk. I give John a plate of food, waiting for his reaction. I watch him try a bit and see his eyes get wide. “I….this is amazing.” I smile at him and give him a thank you. I give Sherlock a smaller plate with less food on it (because I know he won’t eat all of it anyway) and sit down at the table watching them, while eating my own helping. I give Sherlock enough for energy but not a lot to cause too much trouble for him. He still hates it, the idea of his body wasting time on digestion, but he’s given up arguing with me about it.

 

John, attempting to make tea after he finishes eating, realizes we’ve run out of milk and leaves to go get some. I take the plates to the sink, then make a quick stop in the bathroom before going back to the kitchen to wash the dishes. While I’m doing the washing Sherlock comes up behind me, “How about I help?” I let Sherlock dry the dishes and we finish them in companionable silence.

 

“I will have to leave for a bit,” He says when we are done. “Okay, just text me if you need anything. I’m going to go out and get ice cream,” I say to him. We kiss at the door, then go our separate ways.

 

When I get back John and Sherlock are still gone, and as I’m unlocking the door I see Mycroft’s car pulling up. The car door opens, “Something’s happened,” I say to perceptively Mycroft’s partners.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Let me give this to Mrs. H.” I run in and give the ice cream to Mrs. H., then run back to car and get in. We end up at the hospital where I was lead to a private room where Sherlock and John are being taken care of by doctors. I look at Sherlock, who seems to be getting quite irritated by all the people buzzing about, and just keeps saying, “I am fine!”  I walk over to him, and he noticeably relaxes when I am within in touching distance of him. He takes my hand and relaxes even more, finally letting the doctor do their jobs. We stare at each other, then I sigh.

 

“Yes,” he simply responds. So he has won this particular battle. I wonder what he wants now.

 

After taking some time, Sherlock and John were released. John goes to see his girlfriend, or whatever he is calling her, and I take Sherlock back to 221B. Mycroft was there and I end up leaving them alone to talk. They needed a moment to be brothers. I smile to myself, mummy would be so happy to see her boys having a ‘moment’.

 

I make more tea, putting it on a serving plate with milk, honey, and sugar, and bring it out to the Holmes men, putting it on a table and leaving as quickly as I came. Since I’m not currently involved in anything, I decide to occupy my time by cleaning up the mess the flat has become.  I start by cleaning up the rest of the kitchen, and once that was done I started to put away and fix the books that Sherlock and I have collected over the years. I kept a lot here; it was easier than hauling all of them with me every time I went off to a new location for yet another degree.  I notice that a lot of my books are misplaced, but well taken care of by Sherlock, even more than his own were. I clean off of the dust from some and place them in their right place, reminiscing over each one. Due to the sheer number of books we’ve amassed it takes even longer to tidy the books than it did to clean the kitchen. It may not look like it just from glancing around the flat, but Sherlock has never kept all of his books in just one location; it’s his nature to scatter them about.

 

I was very absorbed by my cleaning efforts, so when Sherlock wraps me up in his arms it startles me. I do jump, but I manage to keep hold on to the book in my hand, the very first book we got together, _“Collection of Poe’s and Shakespeare’s Poem’s”_

“We needed that. Thank You, Lex” He starts to kiss my neck, then leads me to his room for the night. There before going to sleep he briefly explains to me the incidents that happened at the pool.  I don’t need him to say much, it’s not like I was curious earlier, I’m just glad both boys are safe.  I want a chance to marry my fiancé someday.  I snuggle into him and wonder more about this Moriarty person.

 

When we wake up in the morning, it was to the sky lightening up by the rising sun; it’s bright enough that it looks like it could even be noon. We stayed in bed for a while longer, just getting up for snacks, and bathroom breaks. I hope we can get more of these days before Sherlock gets more cases, after that happens I will have to find something to keep myself busy. Mycroft said something about the university wanting a new professor…

 

The rest of the day passed quietly and peacefully (at least as quiet and peaceful as 221B ever was), but when we got out of bed the next day I decided to ask Mycroft about the university job. He calls when Sherlock is taking a shower.

 

Mycroft informs me that he had already sent in my resume, and I got the job easily and it was waiting for me. I question him about how easily I got a job I did not even know I wanted yet, but of course it was Mycroft showing that Sherlock was not the only smart person in the family. Sometimes it is easy to forget that both Holmes brothers are brilliant, and that both like to show off.

 

When Sherlock comes out of the bathroom we go out to eat and spend the rest of the day together. The next day goes roughly the same, and just as I’m starting to develop a sense of complacency I realize it can’t always be this simple.  I’m proved right by John coming back; the boys have another case.

 

I supported them, with hints and nudges here and there (and an increasing frequency of cooking), but then summer ended and I moved out into my own flat and started teaching classes at the nearby university. I mostly teach History, Linguist, and Victimology classes. I went to a lot of different departments (something my students sometimes have trouble wrapping their minds around) but the faculty and students loved having me around no matter where I go.

 

Unfortunately, lately Sherlock has been getting jealous of how much time I spend at the university; I was teaching classes, making the time we spend together less and less. I’ve managed to make a system, though. I keep the number of papers that I assign to my students low, which means less time spent grading for me, and give Sherlock my weekends to make up for the lack of time we see each other (besides sleeping together on the weekdays).

 

As time flows by, the end of the term and finals week approaches quickly. Simply because of the inevitability of that time of year, I had so much more to grade than usual. I’ve even recruited Sherlock into helping me. I give him my best students, the ones I think might pass by without completely driving him up the wall, but he still dislikes some of them for being “stupid” or “idiots.” All of my classes had end of term papers due and I really needed the help of an extra mind. So I just had to keep reminding him that they are just underclassmen, and to not judge them too severely.

 

Eventually I gave him all of the Victimology papers, and he had some fun correcting them (although I worry about some of the notes he left for them; pointing out every little inaccuracy- and why- and correctly solving their cases). I finished all the other papers, graded the finals, then posted my student’s final grades for the university. Finally the fall term was over!  I had really enjoyed teaching, and it kept me occupied when John and Sherlock ran off to do their ‘thing’, but I had missed Sherlock. And from his impatience for me to post the final grades, and then the gentle look of delight on his face when everything school related was finished, I knew he had missed me too.

 

We spend winter in my flat. Sherlock took a huge break from cases; Lestrade was more than happy to give him a break, saying that if he needed him he would come to get him. For a week John was free to do whatever he wanted. We decided we need the time to catch up with each other. 

 

Sherlock clings to me, to make up for the loss of time during the fall term. I decide to only teach five classes for the spring term, close to only half of what I did the fall term, and the idea seems like a good one to everybody.  

 

We spent Christmas together and with everyone over at 221B, it was nice to have all the friends under one roof for a happy event unrelated to mysteries or murder (although I’m sure if given a chance Sherlock might find some way to integrate The Work into even Christmas).  I give Sherlock two gifts, another violin (a rare antique that I had found and had convinced Mycroft to help me get), and another microscope (his old one was getting worn down from overuse). He put the violin away in a very safe place; I hope he will play it sometimes. Sherlock gives me a book. He was so clever, it was a book of poem’s he wrote that were all of his cases that he and John did without my help. Now I will have the opportunity to solve the cases I missed, too. He’s promised to add to it with future cases. We were both so content and happy, also thanks in no small part to the delicious snacks Mrs. H. brought, so we spent the rest of the evening on the sofa just watching our friends mingle and soaking in the moment and each other.

 

On New Year’s Eve we kissed at midnight, and on New Year’s Day we spent all day in bed.  It’s really a wonder John still thinks Sherlock’s a virgin, although I suspect Mrs. H. had her own ideas. 

 

The first few months of the year flew by in a hurry.  Halfway through the spring term, over spring break, Sherlock got the two of us a six day stay in Italy. It was good to be happy and together away from everything on London for a few days; we agreed to come back for our honeymoon after we finally got married.

 

After out return from Italy, Sherlock had another two days free and I wrangled him into helping me grade papers again. I know there are about a hundred other things he would find much more interesting and worth his time (he thinks I don’t see his occasional glances towards the kitchen where all of his lab equipment is), but he stays put and endures my underclassmen papers because he loves me.  And I love him so much for it.

 

The rest of the term flies by, and before we know it Sherlock and I are dealing with final papers and final grades again (I joke about him being my ‘teacher’s aid’). But then the school year is over and I’m once again on vacation.

 

During the summer, Sherlock had both John and I as his partners for his cases. John was very happy to have someone to switch off with sometimes, that way he could go off and be a doctor when he needed or wanted to without worry of Sherlock pulling him away from his patients, or go out to bars or on dates.

 

We spend a lot of time on cases but we still find time to be alone together in my flat. Sherlock even spent some time tinkering and upgrading the security system my building came with, and it was a good thing he did because one day someone tried to break into my place. Thanks to my ingenious fiancé they couldn’t even get past the front door before the police and Mycroft’s men swarmed the place.  Sometime being almost-related to the British government has its perks.

 

I’m inside when it happens; I wait to see if they could get in. The camera system Sherlock set up got everything, giving the police the evidence they needed to come and arrest the men. Sherlock is very happy his system worked, but now he uses it as a reason to stay at my flat even more than he did before. Like he needs a reason; however, I do feel safer with him there.

 

When fall comes around I stick to my routine of teaching five classes. The University and I have a good relationship. I notice that there are some students that take all my courses, and I see students who took my classes in previous semesters coming back for more with me. One such student happens to be a man about my age.  I was worried this might happen, I myself did graduate at a very young age, and this man is not the only student of mine close to my age, but I start noticing behavior that could almost be taken for flirting.  Eventually it started to seem a little weird to me.

 

Sherlock also notices (of course he does) and begins looking into him. However, his efforts fall away about the time of fall break thanks to a case from Buckingham Palace itself. Thanks to this interesting development, my fiancé finds and meets ‘The Woman”.


	6. Can I

 

When Sherlock got the case we had to come out of his room for once. But we stayed at 221B, Sherlock wrapped in the bed sheet, and I was dressed in his shirt, it covered a lot because I’m so much shorter than he is.  Basically, The Work needed out attention, but it wasn’t so dire that clothing was called for.  I was looking on from behind Sherlock with my arms wrapped around his neck while he finishes what he’s doing, but I back up when I hear people coming up the stairs. I back up into his room while Sherlock goes to meet these new visitors. I grab my cell phone and text Mycroft, honestly a bit surprised that he texts back. He informs me that Sherlock and John are safe; they were whisked away to the palace and are being forced to take a case. I get dressed and meet the car Mycroft sends for me.

 

Mycroft met me before he walked me into the house; the royal house. He was talking about this woman, Irene Adler, ‘The Woman’, who is very controlling; a dominatrix. She has the capability to blackmail people in power with photos. He needs Sherlock to solve the case, get the phone and protect a member of the royal family.  It all comes down to talking Sherlock into it.  Apparently he’s being his stubborn, charming self.

 

Once we get to one of the sitting rooms, I see Sherlock and John are there, Sherlock still in the bed sheet. Mycroft hands me some clothes, Sherlock’s cloths. Quickly putting two and two together, I get the hint. Apparently I’ve been summoned to make Sherlock put on his clothes.

 

Sherlock, of course, refuses, and the talking escalates. A testy exchange between the two brothers almost results in Sherlock losing his only covering, the sheet wrapped around him! When things calm down a bit I help rewrap him, and lead him to a bathroom where he finally changes into proper clothing.

 

We go back to 221B and Sherlock starts going through disguises, trying to find just the right one to take on the tricky woman. Knowing it is easier to go ‘undercover’ if it’s just the two of them, I let Sherlock and John go off by themselves. But I remember that this woman specializes in a craft that is sexual in nature. I’ve never had reason to question Sherlock’s faithfulness before, but I can’t help but wonder if Sherlock is going to get to see a woman’s body other than my own today. Jealousy creeps up on me. I decide to distract myself by grading the freshest batch of papers, putting my all into them.

 

As the time goes on I start to lose my focus on grading papers and start to think have bad doubt; what if I finally lost Sherlock’s interest and he finally met someone better than me, more interesting than me? This woman does, after all, have a reputation. When Sherlock appears back at the flat, I’ve worked myself up into a crying fit. But I quickly and as subtly as possible dry my eyes, he had been knocked unconscious somehow by The Woman and was being transported home by a group of people, John included.  Those who might have noticed my tears tactfully say nothing. They get Sherlock into his bed, and I help take off his shoes and get him under the sheet. I noticed his coat, the one I got him years ago, his favorite and beloved Belstaff coat, is gone. I can’t help it; it rises back up the alarms I had tried to subdue.

 

I close his door and walk over to John. “Where is his coat,” I ask very slowly. I could tell it was obvious my fears were weighting very heavily on my and his shoulders. “Oh, he gave it to Irene. I have no idea how we are going to get it back.” John says, trying to sound casual.

 

I walk out of 221B then, not really sure where I’m going. I wander around feeling sad; I’ve never had to deal with these kinds of emotions before, Sherlock and I have just always been that- Sherlock and I. John was a fun addition to have around, but I’ve never been nervous of someone coming between us. I end up at my flat, walking in and falling on my bed, and for the first time, since my parent’s death I feel alone. For the first time since I have come back to London I’m going to sleep alone. I don’t even realize that I’ve left my cell phone at 221B.

 

When I wake up I get out of bed slowly and take a shower. I pack up for my day of classes and leave for the university, skipping breakfast, and later lunch, because I did not feel hungry.

 

My student, the one who Sherlock was suspicious of what seems like ages ago, comes up to me during my last class of the day and stands in front of my desk. “Are you okay Dr. Shadelight? You seem a little off, like you’re not as happy as you usually are.”

 

“I’m fine, just my life getting messy; I will be fine tomorrow, but thank you for your concern.” I head out of the classroom and he follows me down to my office. I open the door, walk over to my desk, and put my bag down. I then sit, and he copies me, sitting in the chair on the other side.

 

“I hope it has nothing do with your classes,” he says to me with a smile

 

“No, nothing to do with my classes,” I reassure him.

 

“Then I hope it does get better, Miss Shadelight,” he says as he gets up, leaning towards me. He gets close to me, but then leaves.

 

After taking a moment to compose myself (It has been a weird day), I pick up my bag, then leave my office, closing and checking my door is locked. Shaking off the creepy feeling that always comes with that particular student, I go back to my flat (not 221B, which was another addition to the weirdness) to see police officers there with Sherlock. He’s leading them, and it looks like they’ve been looking for clues. The idiots were so absorbed in what they were doing that everyone completely ignored the addition of my presence to the slight chaos.

 

I drop my bag very hard on my island, and the loud ‘thud!’ gets everyone’s attention; they stop what they are doing and stare at me. Some leave once they see me, mumbling to themselves. Sherlock stares for a few minutes then comes running to me. He wraps me up, holds me close to him, and then kisses me until we are both on our quickly way to running out of breath. He pulls back and looks at me the same way he did when I came back from France over a year ago,  like he strongly believed I was never going to leave him because everything is now alright in world. 

 

He kisses me again, and then says, “I was so worried you left your phone and papers at my flat. I did not even know where you were, you were just suddenly gone. I couldn’t think, it’s like something was missing in my brain; Lex it was awful. And Mycroft was no help at all-” I shut up his rambling with a kiss.

 

“It is Monday, I had classes to teach. Mycroft should have known I was at the university. Now, how on earth did you get all of these people into the flat?” I waved to the remaining, noticing he had not let me go I couldn’t help it; even with all my earlier worrying my body can’t resist relaxing and leaning against him. “I….I overacted and used my powers to summon the police. For GOOD,” he quickly adds. He clings tighter to me.

 

Waving to the remaining police force, he dismisses them. “You can leave now,” waving them out of the flat. “Lestrade is going to make me pay for this, isn’t he?”

 

“Yes he is. Now I would like to know why you overreacted.” He leads us into my bedroom, obviously to pull us down for some needed cuddle time. But before we go very far I get a clear smell from his coat. I yank it off him, turn it upside down to shake the pockets out, and rush into the laundry room with Sherlock following me, a note of confusion on his face. I put it in the washer, putting every detergent and laundry agent I could think of in to get the smell off. Pushing start, I turn around.

 

“What was that about?” He asks when I’m facing him again.

 

“Smell,” I simply say.

 

“Smell?” He thinks for a moment, and I feel heat creep up the back of my neck as I know he is about to figure out I _exactly_ why the last day or so were so hard for me. He remains still for a time, and I give him the moment he needs to puzzle it all out, bracing myself when his eyes widen a bit in realization.

 

“Oh! Her smell… I did not smell her but you would, of course you would. You are a woman and woman are more attuned to the aromatics of perfume; adding to that the fact that your nose has always been more sensitive than mine.” He pulls me to him where I all can see is his chest, and I snuggle my face into it. “She was nothing, The Woman. She has a brain but it’s nothing when compared to yours.  And she looks nothing like you, nothing like you at all my beautiful Alexandra. When I met her I saw someone trying to get things she did not have. As alluring as others may believe her to be, she is tainted, while you are pure.” He pulls my face up to his, poised to kiss me. I can’t help but close my eyes as he whispers, “So pure, and mine.” He then kisses me, and I feel myself begin to stabilize again for the first time in days.

 

Pureness is a Sherlock thing. What I mean by this is that I am only his. In every way; my first kiss was his, my first time with sex was his. All of my firsts have been his firsts as well, and every time since.  And he is mine I remember; only mine. I pull back from him, smiling, and everything feels right again in the world.

 

We sit in the living room talking, not making it to the bedroom before we mutually decided we needed to sit, glued together. He’s holding me, and I’m holding one of his hands in mine. When the washing machine goes off I reluctantly get up and gently lay his coat out to dry, silently apologizing to it for my rough treatment of it earlier. Hopefully her scent is gone by now, not surprising after everything I put in the washing machine with it.

When I get back in the living room he had put a DVD in and we cuddle up again to watch it. I was stilling holding his hand in mine, and he sits still just for me. I wait for the movie to end before moving again. Leaving Sherlock with a few papers to grade, I go back into the laundry room to check that the coat is drying properly.

 

 Taking a deep whiff I confirm not a trace of her scent remained. I smiled, now Sherlock just had to get his smell back into the jacket so I can start curling up against him when he is wearing it again (it’s one of my guilty pleasures).

 

I bring it out and hang it on a hanger, then sit back down next to Sherlock and take some of his stack to grade. When we finished all the papers I start to make dinner while Sherlock fiddles on his phone, doing research about Irene Adler.

 

Then, I heard _It_ when I was halfway done cooking. It was a moan, a female one. Coming from… Sherlock’s phone? I made sure everything was okay to sit on the stove before going into the living room where Sherlock is looking at his cell phone, slightly bewildered and a little curious.

 

“I have no idea what just happened,” he says to me. I take his phone from him and start searching through it; the now content and contacts. I find the newest contact and make a point to change the text tone, I deleting the horrible noise it made before just to be certain. I give it back to him.

 

“I fixed it now. When she had your jacket she put her number in your phone.” He briefly kisses me in thanks, still looking questioningly at his phone, and I go back into the kitchen to finish cooking. I hear footsteps following me; Sherlock. Sherlock has never been one to cook, teaching him was something that doesn’t come naturally to him one learns quickly does not work. He can make tea, and I think that is enough. Mycroft had hoped, and had tried, to make Sherlock learn (because Mycroft himself was a fabulous cook), but even he had given up.

 

Instead of coming over to the stove, however, Sherlock sits at the island and watches me. “Sherlock,” I said to him (well, I’m actually speaking at the oven, but the oven doesn’t respond very well), “Thank you for bring the papers and my cell phone over. I’m sorry I forgot them”

 

“You are welcome, Lex.” He says back, not taking his eyes off me.

 

When dinner was done we eat at the island, my shortness emphasized by my feet hanging off the edges of the barstools while Sherlock’s barely came off the ground. Tall bastard. Afterward, Sherlock cleans and puts away the left overs away.

 

Then I take a shower, noticing Sherlock once again absorbed with the internet on hos phone, looking for something I guess. When I get out, he runs in, so I changed and get into the bed to wait for him, turning on the TV and not paying attention to it. Sherlock comes in, turns the TV off as he passes by it, and climbs into bed beside me. I’m too busy dozing and silently wondering if he missed this last night as much as I did to say anything while he wraps me up in his arms and soon falls asleep. I join him not long after.

 

After that odd day, life continues on as usual. Soon the holidays are flying by, with joys all around, and nothing from Adler. That is until one day we get a gift from her, or more like Sherlock gets a gift from her.

 

I stare at the phone with him. There is no mistaking it, he says, it’s The Woman’s phone. He gives it to me, and I look it over again while he makes a call. I hit the home button to look at the lock screen, curious to see if I can unlock it. _I AM ____LOCKED._

 

I started going through possibilities in my mind. It had to be four digits, but the more I stare at it the more I can’t help but put my fiancé’s name in the slots. It fit perfectly! _I AM_ SHER _LOCKED_. I laugh at my thought, doing my best to keep from making a noise: there is no way that is it. There is no reason; he has not heard from her in six months, he would have told me if he had.

 

When he comes in, I am holding back on trying to unlock the phone. I don’t, instead I give it back to him. “I told Detective Inspector Lestrade that Irene Adler’s body might show up,” he says.

 

It just happened to be the very next that Sherlock’s prediction came true. I went with the Lestrade and Sherlock to look at the body; Lestrade had asked him to identify her. We were told that her face was smashed up, as a warning, but Sherlock looks at the rest of her body, just a glance, and turns to the rest of us in the room. “Yes that is Irene Adler.” He turns and walks out of the morgue, and after a slight pause I follow him.  

 

Catching up to him I pull him to a stop, but he doesn’t turn around and face me. “Tell me, how you can do that? You only saw her once.” He stays silent. “Tell me or I’m leaving,” I demand. I really don’t like how familiar Sherlock is with Irene Adler’s naked body.

 

“She came to me in my dreams,” he says, still turned away from me. All I can see is his shoulder shaking very lightly. I let go of his arm, and look down at the floor, trying to figure out what is going on. We stay liked that for a while, the silence overwhelming us.

 

Finally he turns around and looks at me. “Lex,” is all he can quietly get out, sounding like he was begging for me to do something. Usually I know exactly what he needs, but right not I’m just not sure what to do.

 

I look up at him, “Sherlock,” I say back just has softly.

 

“She has been texting me, just little things. I have never responded to her.” So it is forgiveness he wants. I can give him that for now; I love him. I hold out my arms, and he understands what I mean. He pulls me into a hug, and that is all he needs for now.

 

Sherlock and I go back to 221B and stay the night there; John gets groceries and I cook a big dinner that by the end of there are at least a few smiles floating around because of. When John leaves the next day in a car, I’m not the only one who notices it looks like a Mycroft car because Sherlock follows him, saying something is not right. I text Mycroft asking for a reason behind his kidnapping John (John-napping? I make a note to remember that one- I have to share it with John, it sounds like something John might put in his blog).  Mycrofts calls me saying he did not kidnap John, so therefore there was no reason. I somehow know something was really not right.

 

Mycroft asks if Sherlock followed the car that took John, or if it was necessary to waste time looking for him via CCTV camera. I tell him yes, Sherlock is already on it, and he tells me there is nothing to worry about before telling me to have a nice evening. Sherlock can handle anything, I know this; but can _I_ handle anything?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter Birthday Gift


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